Comprehension
by The 42
Summary: A series of oneshots depicting how various different mutants discovered their powers


**Summary:** A series of oneshots depicting how each of the charachters discoverd his or her mutation. Some of the mutants may already have told that story, but it'll be from a different angle in those fics. Some comicverse, but nothing incomprehensible to those who have only seen the movies.

**Disclaimer:** None of it belongs to me- I am not making any money from this

Character: _Pyro _Mood: _Indifferent_

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People always think that there must have been some tragic heartbreaking incident that caused me to discover my latent mutant abilities, I could never figure out why. As a matter of fact, the main reason I don't like to talk about my past is that I fear people will find it disappointing, almost cloying in contrast to who I am. They always assume that the reason I'm always sulking, always ready to lash out at people is because I had some sort of horrible childhood full of abuse and bereft of love. The true story palls in the presence of the myriad of rumors that fly around me all the time.

In fact, I wasn't angry or scared or grieving in any sense, nor was I particularly happy or thrilled- none of the extreme emotions that usually trigger the emergence of a mutant ability.

I was startled.

The memory plays as most memories do, not strikingly clear, not fuzzed beyond all recognition or blocked out, just a memory, a day like all other days. My mother was making pancakes- yes, pancakes, sorry to disappoint- on the stovetop. I must have been about twelve years old. I was ready for school earlier than usual, so I was just sitting around the kitchen waiting for breakfast and chatting with my mother, a somewhat unusual occurrence. I remember that my mother was flipping the half-cooked pancakes with one hand and stirring the remaining batter with her other, when she knocked over the glass measuring cup. Neither one of us was expecting it to shatter quite so loudly, we both jumped. So did the fire. I was startled that the flame had suddenly grown and in an instant shrunk back to normal size, but I didn't think too far into it. I went on to eat breakfast and go to school as usual, completely missing the fact that our conversation had dwindled to nothing in the next few minutes and that my mother kept shooting me odd looks, right up until the moment I stepped on to the bus to school.

The next day I was taken out of school early to see a doctor, who did some blood tests on me and swabbed a bit of cotton over the inside of my cheek. I asked my parents why they had to take me out of school to go see a doctor, I was feeling fine, but the brushed it off. It didn't occur to me to question why they _both_ had to be at the doctor, nor why he didn't do much of a physical examination, only blood tests. The next few days were filled with hushed telephone conversations and dark looks and discussions that became silent the moment I walked into the room. I began to suspect something was wrong, but I wasn't looking in the right direction. Did I have leukemia? Were my parents getting a divorce? Was there a death in the family that my parents didn't want to tell me about? Was there a war brewing?

I was kept in the dark right up until the day when my parents sat me down on the couch with nervous nothing's-wrong looks on their faces that I could see through from a mile away. They looked almost the same way that they did when they had attempted to give me "The Talk"- except that this time I couldn't figure out for the life of me what was left to discuss. It was out fairly quickly- I'll give my parents that much, they didn't waste time hedging around the subject. For a minute or two I didn't believe them. I thought it must be some sort of sick joke, or some weird April fool's prank that got taken too far. To prove it, my father took me into the kitchen and lit up a burner- then he told me to make the fire bigger. I laughed. Was _this_ what had been bothering them all that time? Did they seriously think that I was a mutant? Just to show him how ridiculous he was being, I concentrated on the flame for a second. No need to tell you what happened next. My mother managed to stay remarkably calm the whole time, all the way through telling me about a "wonderful school" they'd heard of that was specifically founded to help "people like me". I think that that was the phrase that hurt most. I was no longer one of "them", I was people like "me". Not part of the family.

I balked a bit when I found out that I had to fly all the way to America to go to that school, but since then I've never looked back and apparently, from the lack of letters, neither have my parents.

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**A/N:** This is just a distraction from a larger fanfiction that I am working on, so it will only be updated whenever the mood hits me. Of course, if there are plenty of reviews, the mood may just strike me a bit more often!


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